Mele Kalikimaka
by GLuisa88
Summary: Sam is all alone and homesick his first Christmas at Stanford. This is for the LJ h/c bingo prompt "grief".


**Summary: Sam is all alone and homesick his first Christmas at Stanford. This is for the LJ h/c bingo prompt "grief".**

**Rating: K+**

**Word Count: 1000**

**A/N: I know this story is a little out of season but it just came to me and I had to write it. **

He sits alone in his dorm room, the Christmas lights sparkle brightly in his window, reflected in the small red and green bulbs that hang from the tiny tree that is perched atop his dresser. His pathetic attempt at a normal Christmas. His pathetic attempt to do the holiday right and maybe forget that he is alone for the "happiest time of the year". He glances out the window... not even a light dusting of snow.

Of course not.

Nearly four months he's been gone and it feels like a lifetime and just a couple of days all at the same time. He hadn't known that he could feel so homesick. Didn't think that he could ever miss the motel rooms, his father and brother getting drunk, sprawled out on the side by side full sized beds while Sam sat flipping channels and chewing on the last piece of stale Christmas pizza.

And it isn't just the Christmases that he all of a sudden misses. It's Dean's dirty jokes, his dad's rough deep voice that could terrify him at one moment and at the next make him feel like everything was going to be okay.

He had always bitched about the tiny motel rooms they stayed in and now he has an entire dorm room all to himself and all he can think about is how much he misses having to share a bed with his big brother.

Every year he longed for this. A chance to celebrate Christmas like normal people did. He'd go to school, hear the other kids babble on incessantly about their holiday plans. Going to grandma's house, baking Christmas cookies, their Christmas wish lists. And then afterwards hearing them gush about the gaming system they had received... or complain about the sweater their grandma had knitted them and that ached the most because Sam would've given anything to have had a grandmother to just say "Merry Christmas" to him. He would have worn anything she'd knitted for him, no matter how hideous it looked.

And isn't he just a pathetic whiny bitch. He has everything he always said he wanted. A full ride to one of the most prestigious colleges in the nation, a shot at a normal life complete with, someday, a wife, a dog and 2.5 children.

But all he is thinking about is how much this isn't what he'd pictured at all. And the most painful realization is that he isn't even good at being normal. Even his normal isn't normal. It's like he's just playing at it.

For days preceding Christmas Eve, Sam watched as his classmates had packed up and headed home for the holidays. Had watched as the ones who hadn't been able to afford going home had received Christmas cards, gifts, and care packages.

He'd be content if Dean or Dad just sent him a postcard saying they were thinking of him and maybe saying that they missed him as much as he missed them. ... hell, he'd even take a postcard that just said "hi". But every day he check his mail and every day there was nothing.

From across the room his cellphone dances across his night stand, jolting him out of his thoughts. He throws himself across the bed, reaches for it, thinking _Dean... oh God, maybe it's Dean!_

Sam's fingers freeze as he stares at the name on the cellphone. Dean. The name that just moments before he had been hoping, praying he would see. Every instinct screams at him to just answer the damn phone because his freakin' brother is calling him to wish him a merry Christmas... and maybe ask him if he's getting laid. Sam can already hear his brother's voice and hear his laugh.

But he can also hear what he himself will say to Dean if he answers the phone. How he will react to hearing his brother speak. And just looking at his brother's name on the screen is causing a huge gob of emotion to ball up in his chest, making him cry like a little girl who spilled her ice cream. Maybe he should just screw his pride but he can't. He realizes that he can't let his brother hear him cry- he can't let him know how much he misses them because if he admits that, maybe he'll be admitting that going to Stanford was wrong. And maybe if he answers the phone he won't be able to stop himself from begging his dad to just let him come back.

The phone ceases ringing but he stares at it for several moments, hoping that maybe Dean will leave a message. Finally he chucks it across the room. It hits the wall with a crack and he hopes that he hasn't broken it. He takes a deep breath to steady his trembling.

It's just as well. Dean was probably drunk dialing anyway.

Again Sam glances out the window just in time to see a few snowflakes began to drift lightly to the ground.

In the background Bing Crosby croons on about Mele Kalikimaka and white christmases...

The next morning Sam awakes to the sound of his cellphone beeping. One unheard voice message. His heart beats in his throat as he lifts it to his ear and listens.

"Hey Sammy. I hope the reason you didn't answer the phone was cause you were off getting laid... anyway, Merry Christmas."

Damn it, he misses Dean so much.


End file.
